


Vision Of Blue

by opelqie



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Chromesthesia, Crushes, Fluff, Grapheme Color Synesthesia, Kissing, Lexical-Gustatory Synesthesia, M/M, Neck Kissing, Pining, Synesthesia, no beta we die like the trio, no real names used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:09:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opelqie/pseuds/opelqie
Summary: Bad can't help but fall in love with all the colors floating around his vision, his favorite being blue; who's playing the guitar better than anyone Bad has ever heard, seen, and felt.-Or in which Skeppy plays the guitar and Bad has synesthesia!Synesthesia is a blending of the senses; in which sounds, music or voices are seen as colors, words having a taste, and many more.
Relationships: Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 30
Kudos: 134





	Vision Of Blue

**Author's Note:**

> The song Skeppy is playing: Talk to me - cavetown (guitar cover)
> 
> Link to the song:
> 
> https://youtu.be/mEnyEYwyHfI
> 
> I saw that there was no skephalo synesthesia au on ao3 so i decided to be the first one to write it! (2nd in the fandom; there's one on wattpad)

If there was a word that could describe this moment, Bad wouldn’t know it, wouldn’t even try to reach into the deep of his mind and catch a floating letter from his vision.

He hasn't been in this classroom for a while now, years. The once filled with floaty letters and blooming shades of every existing color, now covered in dust and moss from opened windows.

He could tell that Skeppy hasn't either.

Skeppy, a falling star from the sky that Bad somehow saw one night as he gazed up, wishing a silly wish, yet it never really came true. Instead of having his wish granted, he received a whole star.

That star standing right next to him too after they entered the old classroom.

Bad remembers how the yellowish blur poured from his hand when he closed the classroom's door on the first day of school. Just a tiny blink of light brown disappearing right after the door glued to the sides of dirty white walls. His red, worn-out sneakers yelling under his gaze as he walked further into many blasting colors.

He remembers seeing magic when his eyes landed on a certain person that had a really fine mess of raven hair.

It was as the floor suddenly became water and he walked right into it; Hues of cyan around his vision and harsh brown scratching at his ankles.

He didn’t know why, but he still pulled his legs to move, to shamelessly walk to an empty seat next to the boy who held a guitar to his chest, fixing the notes. And when he tapped the boy's shoulder, he was met with the most beautiful hues of brown his eyes has ever landed upon.

They both remember that moment, how could they not? A dusted table right in front of them as they carefully walked through the abandoned room full of dark seaweed and merlot colors, taking in the familiar surroundings.

Skeppy having a free mind of his own, he leaned on the side of their old shared table in front of a window. Memories like wet purple sunset falling flawlessly on his skin and onto the floor.

"I missed this." the blue sighed under a violet cover that has been wrapped around his body, making his white T-shirt shine a faint pink shade. Bad almost felt like he was drowning again, drowning in that blue sea of emotions that the waves only knew how to crash against the stone and glitter icy white with sparks of yellow.

"Yeah," Bad's tongue felt like years away and a ruby red letter could only float before disappearing in front of his eyes, leaving them alone; only him, with _him_.

Bad sat on the floor, crosslegged looking up at the pouring star, Skeppy smiled down at him.

They had no important reasons to be here, just Bad missing fireworks of color and emotions that he was in a drowning need to feel. Skeppy didn't seem to mind when he came into his room and asked him to join him for a walk, receiving a blinding blue smile as an answer and a tanned hand grabbing a guitar from his bed.

And there they were, blue leaning on the table with a guitar in his arms, stained knuckles with pink and yellow and it's just them. No colorful classmates and no grayish-white teachers with death glares.

Bad placed a notebook in his lap, long fingers tangled around a pencil as he looked up at his friend with nothing but love shining in his emerald orbs.

Skeppy's glanced away and focused on the item in his lap finger brushing the string and Bad was already so speechless. Sparkles of galaxy exploded and reached the ceiling, washing the room with thin streaks of spruce brown. Oxygen not even having space to enter Bad's lungs when he was already so full of color.

Music in colors, colors in words, words in letters, and blur behind his dripping dark eyelashes.

Skeppy's fingers gliding against his guitar like hands through his hair when he gets nervous. Bad was always so fond of that habit.

The melody bled everywhere and Bad only knew how to taste them, he drank them all and it filled him to the brim like water that's spilled from the cup when he's not paying attention, letting it pour into it and spill out.

The soft melody soaks through Bad's layers of skin, silver droplets painting Bad's bones with a gentle touch and it explodes when it reached his feet, the farther the droplets fall, the more it crashes away into thousands of pieces.

Bad shakes his blue thoughts away with an unnoticed, yellowish sigh and he draws a soft circle in the middle of his notebook.

Skeppy continued to play the constellations of the notes long written down in the back of his mind, glued to his brain like his name and surname.

shades of cyan like butterflies flying around Bad's vision, he bit the insides of his cheek to focus more on the item in his lap, rather than the overwhelming blue in front of him.

The intro of the song came to an end, Skeppy smiled down at Bad when he glanced at his unfinished artwork. His finger pressed harder against the frets of the guitar and a new tone bubbled out.

The surface of the sea rose, waves boiled, and water vapor reached the clouds.

Liquid taking Bad's breath away and painting his lungs with shades of coffee with a ton of creamer, wine blood mixing with blue-gray in his veins.

And he still tried not to focus on the pool of mecha and arctic that was just playing the notes of a song.

The colors are a little distracting, looking like streaks of burning flames. Bad's azure stained fingers continued to glide on the page, creating shapes of circles and lines, the image quickly made sense when he lifted his hand away to look at it better.

A messy sketch of a face and hair in all directions. He heard Skeppy's smile, so bright that he felt the back of his neck tickle with warmth.

The melody moves like a running river. Fast, the features of the wind and tiny waves.

Lyricsless symphony, Bad wishes he could fly. Skeppy and the music to be his breeze as he glides through the cotton candy clouds with his floaty wings.

Blob of silver jumps out of the river and out of his vision, a spark like when he would look up at the sun for a split second, and then glue his eyelids shut to see a light orange glowing with tints of red at the edges.

He doesn't notice the melody slowing down or his long fingers stopping dancing.

He's stuck in blue. The tip of his pencil on the paper where he should be drawing a person's mouth.

He flushes when his mind imagines the skies of someone's lips. He couldn't help it. He would give the world away just to fly in that sky.

The sky is like a stranger though. Always seeing it in front of him but never daring to reach _to_ it.

Long distance, yet he was so close to it. To _him_.

Of course, he would never look at him after he glances down, not with his cheeks embarrassingly pink. Wishing he were just a little closer, just to feel his blue breath against his grayish red.

 _Gosh, I'm drowning._ He thinks, and it's true. He's drowning for months and years. Every second he's drowning in blue. Every second turning into minutes and minutes feel like words on the tip of his tongue when he wants to yell, scream his lungs and heart out. Maybe _then_ the color blue would understand what he's causing red to feel, that he's filling the water with a sea that's saltier than Bad has ever imagined it to be.

A blur of seafoam green twinkle in Bad's vision and fades away quickly. The river comes to a stop and Bad's blue thoughts shift in confusion.

"Bad-" Skeppy calls gently and Bad's breath froze for a split moment. He shot his eyelids up, looking into the mocha pools, then down at the cracked lips. He couldn't resist the urge to glance, not if the blue is wrapped all around him and the whole room, taking his breath away, rough but soft at the same time and he bites the insides of his cheeks in embarrassment, feeling metal yellow but he doesn't care, not if the blue is staring right down at him.

Skeppy only shoots him a warm smile and sits beside him, placing the guitar in front of them on the rough ground. Everything is warm, the colors turning in Bad's stomach and he feels like he's going to explode like shiny fireworks.

"I saw you stop drawing, sorry." Skeppy sighs and Bad swore his shoulder tickled with a pang of lilac.

"It's okay."

They don't talk. They don't need to, just simply enjoying the setting sun behind the foggy windows and dust that started floating around when Skeppy leaned off of the table and sat down next to him. Bad let himself burn in a glowing blue fire that caused his palms to sweat.

There's nothing special about the classroom except for all the memories they've made together, and all the colors he felt.

He was never colorblind, but meeting Skeppy felt like he finally started seeing colors that are so joyful he nearly melted in them. The colors more clear, more lovely; like when he would avoid eating something that he thought was disgusting, only to try it years later and realize that it's not that bad. That it's actually _fantastic_.

Bad likes this.

He likes how the classroom is just full of colors and full of taste, even though no one really visited the school anymore, the guitar in front of him tasted like yellowish-brown, the table like harsh fabric, and hues of the violet world from behind the window calmed his burning heart down and it seeped onto the ground.

"It's stupid." Skeppy laughed a faint laugh, his eyes catching Bad's confused ones.

"What?"

"Like, we've known each other for so long, dude," He sighed "and you never told me about that you had it."

"Had what? Skeppy you're making so sense-"

"That thing! Ugh, I don't know the name… Syn-sia or something." He threw his head back, trying to remember how his friend called it a few days ago.

"Synesthesia?"

"Yes, that! Why haven't you told me before?" He looked at him with nothing but care in his eyes, something that made Bad weak and melt right on the spot.

"I dunno," Bad frowned, voice small. "I thought you would look at me as I was crazy."

"I wouldn't! Honestly, I'm stupid for not noticing it!" a faint green color twinkled around the blue that was around them, Skeppy raises his voice with annoyance. "Now I know why your face always lights up when you hear me play."

Bad's eyes widened, a soft shade quickly spreading over his cheeks and ears. "Wh- no it doesn't!"

"It does!" Skeppy giggled, and an orangish cyan sprinkled like flames when he playfully nudged his shoulder. "literally happened a minute ago-"

"Hadn't."

"Had."

"Ugh, whatever you muffinhead…" Bad huffed, unable to hide his smile. "Still, I haven't told you because I thought you would think I was weird, like everyone else."

"Bad-" He said softly, careful, not liking the frown that took over Bad's face; Skeppy's favorite, the one that would giggle at every joke he blurted out, even if it made no sense. "We're best friends. You know you can trust me with anything, right?"

"I know, it's just-" Bad smiled sadly. "I never really found the right time to tell you. Plus, the thought you weirded out by it scared me."

Silence fell harshly on Bad's hair and it felt like he just pulled himself out of the pool, liquid dripping from the blades of his chestnut hair and messing his vision, eyes red from how many times he rubbed at them.

"Be grateful that I finally told you!" He decided to paint the now dark blue with a little light, and to his surprise; the night turned into the daytime, baby blue, happy.

"It's okay, dude, I get it." Skeppy smiled. "If anything, it makes you special."

He loved how Bad's green eyes sparkled like he was a fairy from the books like he just grew wings and Bad just stared, speechless; mesmerized by his beauty. _Not that he already was…_

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"Aw," The blue never felt so magical. It flew into his lungs and grew flowers, painted his cheeks a lovely color, and made his heart skip a beat. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me, thank you."

"Aw," Skeppy beamed back at him, having no idea about the fireworks of colors and the taste of oranges that Bad felt on the tip of his tongue and fingers.

They just stared at each other. One drowning in his feelings, and the other feeling something that Bad had no idea how to, and how it looked, tasted, or even felt like. He doesn't know how the world looks like behind Skeppy's eyelashes. He doesn't know how it feels like to listen to music and not see colors, he doesn't know how it feels like looking at something and not feel its taste, or hearing something and not feel it dance on his skin.

He doesn't want to, either, the world without it would feel too empty to him. He also doesn't know that _he's_ Skeppy's world, he doesn't know that he looks absolutely stunning in his eyes.

"Hm," Skeppy hummed, breaking the comfortable silence that was floating in the classroom and outside of it, the only noise being the leaves rustling. "can I, um, can I ask how it feels like?"

"How what feels like, exactly?"

"Well, you know, music and letters and other stuff you mentioned,"

Bad doesn't like the hesitant blue voice in the air and how he feels it crawl at his knees, spreading out like sharp static, making his leg go numb. He doesn't like how Skeppy's face is unsure, clouded by the fog that's full of questions deep inside of his throat. He knows that look, the face so familiar to him he could recognize it from miles away, the one he makes when he thinks it's not alright, thinking that if he does something, it will come out as offensive.

"-How do you feel right now?"

He can feel his veins melting when Skeppy smiled his rare shy smile that, he's positive, he only does when _he's_ around. Him, only him. He could feel his heartbeat becoming a puddle of colors and a taste of metallic pink with shades of silk green at the edges after the thought that he's only shy when around him. It's sweet.

"Like an idiot," He tries to laugh his blush away.

Skeppy giggles too, peach and light butter, taking the light atmosphere as a sign that he can continue. "You can feel taste of something too, right?"

"M'yeah!"

"How do- uh," Skeppy wondered, his brain so empty that every question he had before just vanished. "how does my shoe taste like?" He grabbed his leg and lifted it.

"Kind of like, old books?"

"Woah, cool! And orange?"

Bad takes a few seconds longer; "Orange is like orange, I guess. I can't really tell."

"How about my eyes?"

Eyes; something that Bad pays good attention to, every time they talk, he melts into his eyes and has to look away when he feels himself zoning out.

Brown eyes, the color that most people would call boring, would describe them as simple as dirt or chocolate.

To him; brown eyes are so much more. They're like little poems written by teenagers, saved in their little notes and never shown to the world; ashamed, thinking that their words won't be as powerful as someone's who has written many books. Thinking that people would see their words as weak as a leaf falling to the ground when it gets cold. Thinking that they would be made fun of for writing, not knowing that words are what makes them special. It's not the clothes people wear, it's the words that slip out of their mind and heart. Someone being shameless, showing their work to someone close to them or maybe even strangers, it means wanting to share their happiness; to show someone how proud they are of _themselves_ without feeling selfish. It's beautiful when the other person shows even more affection towards said work, hyping it up and being happy that _they're_ the one that has been chosen to be trusted with it.

Brown eyes like pools of honey when the sun awakes and begins to rise; blasting soft golden colors and making brown eyes prettier than the blue ones. Brown eyes in the mornings and sunsets are so rich, royal, so sweet.

They're like a blanket around shaky shoulders and hot chocolate in cold hands in front of burning flames and snowflakes dancing outside of the warm house.

Brown eyes are like Earth; the ground you walk on and from where many different flowers bloom.

Brown eyes are like many wise, old trees that children climb onto. Like when people go for a walk, the tree bark scratching under their fingertips as they brush them against them to feel its rough shield.

Like leaves that fall in Autumn; many shades of yellow and gold dancing in the air and sleeping on the ground.

Brown eyes like fresh cookies from the oven, a comforting scent of home, and bright smiles when they share them with their favorite people.

Brown eyes are like coffee too; a drink that many people hold in their cups as they chat with their family and friends. Coffee that can have cream added on top, relaxing to drink and let your body melt from the warmth.

Brown eyes like chocolate after a long exhausting day; a gift to show you that everything you did today was worth it, always will be.

Brown eyes are so beautiful, especially under the rays of the sun; making the brown hues glow honeycomb.

They are tiny round worlds full of life. A pool some people find comfort in and drown from passion.

Brown eyes like a tiny wooden bridge across the lake where a lovely couple shares a romantic kiss; not long, not heated, only a tiny peck that holds a powerful meaning like many stars and planets above them.

The hues of brown like happiness in child's eyes when they make their first soup; made out of dirt and grass added for decoration. A smile on their parent's faces when they tell them to try it out, getting a _"It's pretty, but I've already eaten. Maybe you can give it to your sibling?"_ as an answer and giggles when the child would agree and disappear around the corner.

How could Bad say all that? He could go on and on describing his eyes, the ones that the other called _boring_ , wishing he could have blue hues like the sea or maybe even emerald green. Bad has so much to say about it yet no time, Skeppy is only asking for a simple answer, he knows, but the amount of seconds when Bad stared deep into the brown is uncountable; quick glances would turn into seconds when they would talk, and seconds would feel like an hour after he zones out.

Right now, at least, he had the whole day just to stare. Skeppy would wait patiently for his answer, long or short; it doesn't matter. And he did; he let Bad stare at him in awe that only made his cheeks flush more and his smile turns to awkwardly shy.

Realizing that people don't usually stare into tiny worlds that shine brightly or could even pour like a waterfall, Bad blinked before answering and ignoring how the taste of vanilla cappuccino in early mornings washed over his upper leg.

"Honey." Just that. Just a simple word that tasted so sweet. He will wait for the right time to describe it more than just using one noun, but not right now. His cheeks also turn a shade of flames after the thought that he called him by a pet name crossed his mind.

"Well," Skeppy gulped his rising laugh, keeping a serious face on. "your eyes are like frogs."

"Wh- okay no, I take it back. Your eyes are like poop-"

"You taste poop?" He raised his voice to a fake surprised.

"No, Skeppy! _Ugh,_ you know what I mean! Anything else you wanna ask?"

"Yes, how about my shirt?" Skeppy giggles his blue giggle.

 _That_ type. That type of Skeppy’s giggle made his heart bloom and bones soften. Bad loved it. "Hmm," He decided to ignore an obvious blush painted across his face by pretending to scratch his chin and cheek while sorting his answer out. "like rough paper mixed with strawberry."

"That sounds delicious, wanna try it?" Skeppy smirks at him, slowly lifting his baggy white shirt.

"That's not how it works, Skeppy."

"Just a little lick, c'mon"

"No, it's not the same! Eating a shirt is- hey!-"

His breath knocked out of his lungs as Skeppy lunged at him and placed his hands, which held the shirt, on Bad's mouth. Both losing their balance and falling onto their back, a yelp being muffled by Skeppy's hand.

He rolls off and lays next to him, giggling at Bad's frustrated expression, and when Bad looks back at him with a huff, his green eyes widen at how close their faces are.

Bad wants to look away, wants to mask up his flushed fire across his face and whine at him for doing that, but all he could do is stare, stare into the deep hues that shone right back at him.

He can't find the strength to break the shared eye contact, his whole body feeling weak and different shades of colors keeping him glued to the ground. He prays that Skeppy cant see the drowning want in his eyes, the need of blue and blue and blue and just blue. The strong need of blue that's laying in front of him; so close that their breath is mixed together in a faint violet.

Sparkles of scarlet and gold blooms in Bad's vision, Skeppy's shades of royal blue floating around them with pale pink at the smooth edges. Bad swore he saw his tanned cheeks turn a deeper shade of roses as they continued to stare. His heart and blood and colors around him aren't the only things that are rushing like the speed of light; his mind is full of questions. _Why doesn't he move? Why isn't Skeppy moving? Why arent they both pulling away and waving it off as a joke? Why, why, why?_ Maybe Skeppy wants this too, maybe he knows how Bad is drowning in blue, drowning in _him_ because he's that blue that's always painting Bad's mind and vision a beautiful mess of shades. _Does Skeppy want this?_ He hopes he does, he doesn't want to suffocate in beautiful liquid and be helpless as his body relaxes. He doesn't want to drown without Skeppy being there to pull him out of it.

But he also wants it, wants _this_. He wants the blue;

 _His_ blue, the one who is the cause of his drownings.

The minty feeling of need and warmth slowly cups his cheek and he tastes the petals under his tongue and inside of his teeth. The feeling is so soft, he melts under the touch the second he feels and tastes it.

All he wants is _him_. He wants to feel the raven fluff wrapped around his finger as he plays with it, he wants to draw soft circles in the back of his head and tug on his hair a little to the side so he could lean in, feeling soft fireworks and tingles in his spine when the baby blue lips finally connect with cranberry red. And later after becoming more comfortable, he would paint his neck with colors too; his ruby lips brushing and giving small kisses under the arctic's jawline. He'd take in the feeling of sunset's waves and the scent of sunflowers that are always facing their star, admiring the beauty and energy that floats around and softly lands on their petals. And Bad would feel just like them; not perfect as a rose but like a silly happy sunflower that's perfect in its own way. That's exactly what's beautiful about him, he will never be a rose, nor does he wants to be. And Bad would slowly start to press his kiss harder, nibbling at the soft baby blue skin, making it turn violet and would taste like soft metal and like home. A shade darker than his own looking so defenseless under his caring gaze; Bad would always lean back, look at him with a smile so bright that even the sun, the stars, and the moon wouldn't be able to shine more at that moment. Regretting the years of waiting and longing for the other's touch, being a coward; not wanting to admit how badly he wants to pin him against the wall and finally let his feelings, that he locked away from anyone's reach, bloom out. The blue was born to be kissed with love full to the brim, with careful touch and tiny ghosts of a pale index finger and a thumb massaging his earlobe. His blue would giggle and smile back at red, taking Bad's hand and pressing a long, loving kiss inside of its palm.

He thinks he wants too much. He already has what makes him happy; the blue laying next to him is enough to make his entire week better with a simple _hi_. But he wants more, and he hates himself for it.

He hopes Skeppy doesn't see the need pouring out of his bright emerald eyes, from his lungs and mouth, staining the floor under them with many colors. Mainly blue, red, and purple with blurs of honey:

Skeppy's blue gaze is soft, it burns against Bad's red one and their breaths are painted purple.

Bad also wants to look away, to brush it off with a laugh, tawny and heavy and it would hurt his lungs and throat even more, blue mixing with brown and pale yellow at the rough edges.

He is stuck in blue. He wishes one day he could be stuck in purple too, wishes that _they_ could be stuck in purple.

He is red like wine and like boiling blood in his veins with silver blobs of circles, even like fresh pancakes and waffles in the morning, staring at the baby blue sky next to him, the deep sea with a huge honeycomb sun above it, melting from its own heat and gold droplets splashing against the waves, cyan and goldfish orange mixing so beautifully together.

 _Everything_ is about blue and a pair of brown hues to Bad. Skeppy is blue and his world is painted cyan.

He can't help but glance down at Skeppy's lips; one that's peeled off a bit and cracked, he is filled _so_ to the brim that he feels the now dark blue, night sky from outside tickle his back and neck under his cloth. His bones are just crushed, the pieces melting away.

They're so close. None of them pulling away, they're just staring with blushy cheeks and half-lidded eyes. He wants it, does Skeppy want it too? He would do anything to lean in and let his lips brush against Skeppy's, and he's sure he would melt away if he'd feel him kiss back too.

 _"Kiss me."_ Bad wants to say, wants to yell his feelings out, but the words burn in his throat and the only thing that leaves his nose and lips is a warm blow of breath, kind of ragged from how his heart skips a beat.

The way Skeppy shyly smiled at him before he moved, Bad's eyes softened in awe and confusion. A shade of yellow and gold curls in Bad's throat. He's missed his chance.

"It's dark," Skeppy says after lifting his body from the floor. "I think we should get going."

The soft breeze of wind kisses Bad's cheek where Skeppy's hand was, he already misses the light sparkle of fingers against his flushed skin.

It's quiet. Yellowish blue is beautiful when it floats to the ceiling, spreading quickly in many shapes of flowers. Skeppy stands and grabs the guitar.

"It's also becoming cold," Skeppy wouldn’t admit the flames tickling his cheeks, looking anywhere but down at his friend. "I'll wait for you outside, 'kay?

His tongue is swallowed and he only nodded his head, watching Skeppy leave the old classroom and closing the creaky door, that tastes like banana and sparkles brownish-yellow around in the air, behind him.

The blue is too powerful and has too many shades that Bad's just swallowed, drowning. The other colors not helping his case, blue mixing with every color possible and staining the room with life. He can't help but let his red mix with it too.

The room feels lonely without the other's two honey glistering stars that painted the walls and stained his fingertips with pinkish green. He drops his head with a tiny thud and looks up. He's missed his chance.

He can lay here for a little longer, Skeppy wouldn’t mind the wait, he knows.

He already feels forest green liquid dripping from outside of the door and waves of the sea gliding in the air, entering the place when a faint melody starts playing.

 _Yeah,_ he thinks and his eyelids flutter shut to let music overtake his scents again. _I could._

He could let the waves wash him over for one more time, never in a rush to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very appreciated!


End file.
